Lilies On Her Grave
by Laser Lance 720
Summary: As always, Snape stops by Lily's grave in order to fill her in on what her son is getting up to. But as the years pass, he begins to realize the toll it all is taking on him. And he isn't sure how many more flowers he'll be able to leave on her grave before he's needing a tombstone of his own.


Written for the **Poem Prompt Challenge** (Do Not Stand By My Grave and Weep), **Variety of Prompts Challenge** (Occasion: Halloween), **Disney Character Challenge** (Nana: Write about someone who protects others at all costs)

-oOo-  
>-oOo-<br>-oOo-

(31 October 1982)

It took him a year to visit the grave. A year full of regret, and self-hatred. She had often joked with him that had he had just been a bit more open with his courage, he would have made a perfect Gryffindor. He never understood how she believed that. Courage was something that did not belong to him. He was a Slytherin for a reason. A Gryffindor wouldn't have hide like he had. They wouldn't have stood by, helpless while she was murdered. A Gryffindor would never have went sniveling to the feet of the Dark Lord to begin with. He was no Gryffindor. He was pathetic, worthless, an insect at best. And he accepted this for he knew it to be true.

"I am sorry, Lily." Snape's voice was low. The air was nippy, a small breeze ruffling the newly appointed potion master's cloak. He paid no mind to it though, allowing the black fabric to dance about as it wished. The graveyard was silent, take care for the flapping of fabric and the low drawl of the man. A faint roar in the foreground told him of oncoming storms.

The sky above him had already turned a sour shade of grey; the clouds hanging above a thick and dark mass. It reminded him of the sinister mark the Death Eaters had left over the sky so many times over the years. His dull eyes searched the clouds in fear that he just might spot the skull and snake that he had seen cast oh too many times.

"I should have visited sooner." Snape spoke in a whisper, breaking his gaze from the foreboding sky. He didn't know why he was being so quiet, there was no one around to hear his word. The graveyard was deserted; the only soul present being a broken one. "Then again, I have no right to be here to begin with. It's my fault this occurred. Had I been a bit stronger – had I not been so weak. If I had known he was coming after you I would have… I would have what?

"I never was the one to make good choices. I see that now. You saw it. Then again, you also saw the best in me. I never understood how you did it, or what good you ever saw. I doubt there has ever or will ever be any good inside of me." He laughed lowly, his heart not in it. "And I am sorry if I ever had you believing otherwise."

Snape paused for a moment. "The boy… Harry… he survived. He's with you sister. I doubt that is a wise placement as I remember Petunia and her distain for magic all too well. Never the less, Professor Dumbledore feels it is for the best. Something or another of a normal childhood."

Once more Snape paused in his words. His mind raced with all the things he wished to say. There was so much he needed to speak. He needed to apologize for every action he had ever taken. He needed to seek forgiveness for all the wrongs he had caused. Most of all, he just needed Lily Evans alive. He didn't know how say any of it, and he doubted saying those words out loud would change anything.

"I made a mistake Lily." Snape frowned, his eyes locked into narrowed slits. "I've made several mistakes in my life, the first was not realizing my own selfishness. The last being allowing you to die, and knowing that I am the cause. I will never be able to forgive myself for what I have done. The consequences of those actions will rest on my shoulders for as long as I live. As they should. But I promise you Lily – I promise on what little our friendship may have meant in the end – I promise that I will not allow your legacy to end here.

"The boy… Harry. Your son. I promise you, I will do all that is in my power to protect him once he comes of age." He was once more silence, his promise now spoken into the air for the first time since he'd made it. He didn't know what he was expecting to get out of this. Her name was still carved into the headstone; the ground remained as it was with her still beneath it. The absence in his heart stung with every beat it attempted to take. Nothing changed. Nothing would ever change.

"Professor Dumbledore has offered me a position at Hogwarts. Potions. I never imagined myself as much of a teacher, but I made a promise. To Dumbledore. To you. To myself. To that boy. I cannot guarantee that I will always be my best, but I will do everything in my power to protect him when I can."

His words fell off into the chilly air until silence was complete around him. Unsure what more to say, and wondering if his words were truly falling to deaf ears, Snape merely nodded. He withdrew his wand slowly, glancing around the small cemetery in search for any Muggle who might spot him. Finding himself still alone, he pointed the tip towards Lily Potter's grave. A small white lily began to materialize before his eyes. The flower rested on the top of the grave stone, a pure white to the grey stone.

It began to rain, the cold droplets hitting his face and sliding down his cheeks like tears. It's the rain – he told himself. It's just the rain... It's just the rain, nothing more.

Placing his wand back into his cloak, Snape sniffled once – from the cold.

Always from the cold.

"I promise you." Snape repeated. "I will protect him."

_Do not stand at my grave and weep  
>I am not there; I do not sleep<em>.

(31 October 1991)

He went to the grave site twice a year; the first, and most essential, being the day of her death. For years he just would just stand there, staring at the stone and repeating his promise as if to solidify it for the coming years. It was always a short trip as he did not have much to say. He had no news concerning her son and Snape doubted that Lily cared what he was getting up to enough to listen from wherever she may be. This year finally provided him with the information he knew his oldest and still dearest friend was searching for.

"He is insufferable." Snape growled into the night. He was glad he had chosen to wait until late at night to visit Lily's grave, as his outbursts may have caused a scene had it occurred during the day light hours.

"Irresponsible is what he is. Not even half way through the term and he already manages to nearly get himself killed. A troll? What eleven year old gets the idea to take on a troll? And a full grown one at that. He is damn lucky Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger were there to assist him or I doubt he would have lived through the experience."

Snape took a moment, breathing through his noise in an attempt to calm himself. "Never the less, he is alive and fine. It seems some of James' luck has rubbed off on the boy. He may survive yet.

"He has your eyes." His tone was much softer now. "It's sometimes like I am looking at you again. If it weren't for the resemblance to James that is. The boy is the spitting image of him. Except for the eyes. Those belong to you."

Snape sighed. He felt a creak in his neck and a soreness to his bones. "I feel too old and exhausted. Must be the stress. Teaching is quiet a pain. I never did have much patience for children. But that's not a conversation you would wish to hear…. I must be getting back to the school. It is late after all. I'm sure Potter is already roaming the halls looking for more trouble to get involved in. The boy will be the death of me, I am sure of that."

Snape withdrew his wand, silently casting the spell he had used over and over again through the years. The lily appeared on the grave. It was barely visible in the dark of night, but still the white petals seemed to shine in the surrounding cold.

"Until next time." He turned his back to the grave, making his exit. He would return again come the end of the term in order to fill her in with the rest of her son's activities. But that graveyard trip in June didn't mean the same as the one he took each Halloween. The trip in June was to reassure himself that the boy had survived the year. The trip in October was to remind himself as to why he had to keep the boy safe in the first place.

_I am a thousand winds that blow,  
>I am the diamond glints on snow<em>,

(31 October 1992)

"It would appear Halloween is cursed." Snape groaned as he stopped in front of Lily's grave. The night sky hung overhead as the hours chimed away. "I must start coming here earlier in the day. Maybe than I could have something good to tell you of. As it is, I once more must inform you of your son's activities. It seems that the boy has a talent for showing up to a scene at the most inopportune time.

"This time is was a petrified cat." Snape chuckled darkly. "He was standing wide eyed at the scene along with his two little friends. You remember Filch's cat? Miss Norris. The mongrel. It would seem she ran into a spot of trouble. I should be a bit more sympathetic, but I never did care much for the feline to begin with. The whole situation is like candy for Lockhart. If I wish that fate onto anyone it would be that conceited arse. But I digress.

"The cat was not Potter's first instant of trouble this year." Snape spoke in a low drawl, his hands dug deep into his pockets. "He and the youngest Weasley boy thought it would be wise to fly a car right into school grounds. Something about a closed platform. I don't care what their reasoning were, nor was I listening when they gave them. He nearly got himself and the other boy killed whenever they plowed into the Womping Willow. It seems your eyes were the only thing he received from you. His judgment and forethought must have come from his father."

Snape paused for a moment, feeling his anger rise at the thought. Taking a moment to breath, he resettled himself before continuing. "The boy is doing fine otherwise. He is still on the Quidditch team. Playing Seeker. I don't think that team has ever done as good as they are doing now. It's disturbing really. My Godson recently took up the same position for Slytherin's team. A bit of focus and he could prove to be a real opponent for Potter. It will do the boy some good to have suitable competition.

"But that is all so far. I will be here again in June. As always." Snape withdrew his wand. A quick casting of the spell left a single lily flower on the gravestone. He didn't wait for the petals to settle into place before he spun and made his way out of the graveyard.

_I am the sun on ripened grain,  
>I am the gentle autumn rain<em>.

(31 October 1993)

"If there is anyone I blame for your death as much as I blame myself, it will have to be Black." Snape's fists were clenched tight as he eyed the gravestone. "He escaped Azkaban recently. Went after the boy just hours ago. Thank God he was unable to get into the dorms. Who knows what would have…"

Snape sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I don't understand what he believes he is doing by going after the boy. I remember Sirius, I never did like him, but I remember him. All smirks and mischief. Real arrogant brat, right next to Potter. But he was nothing like this. Wild. A monster. But I guess people change."

Watching a lone leaf snap away from a branch, Snape bit his lower lip. "At least, some do."

The leaf flicked once in the breeze before coming to a rest aside the others on the ground. The graveyard was littered with its kind, deep reds and sickening bright yellows dotting over the dry grass. Soon the snow would fall and cover the leaves as they covered the grass. Severus would never admit it, but he did enjoy the snow. Its pristine whiteness, so crisp and pure against a harsh world of browns and greens.

"I cannot be here long. I have to get back to the school. The teachers are patrolling and I do not feel right leaving the boy there with Black on the loose. But I needed to stop by here. It seemed wrong not to come as I've spent my last twelve Halloweens here."

Flicking his wand, the lily appeared as it always did. His eyes roamed over the crisp grass, taking note of the dried and dead petals that littered about the stone. He knew by time he arrived here again in June that the flower he left would have blown or rotted away just as the leaves did, yet he left it all the same.

_When you awaken in the morning hush,  
>I am the swift uplifting rush<em>

(31 October 1994)

Snape arrived later than usual. It was near eleven at night when he apparated straight in front of the grave. He didn't even care if some Muggle was out wandering about and should spot the use of magic. His emotions were running wild, not that one could tell with the stony mask he portrayed. At the sight of the grave, the mask chipped and his shoulders dropped by several inches.

The sky above was a cloudless black, dotted furiously with twinkling stars. He wished for rain. He prayed for rain. Severus desired the Heavens to open up, cry upon him so that he could so the same. For it was always the rain on his cheeks. Always the rain, and nothing more.

"They will let him compete." He dove straight into it. The street lights a ways away didn't give sufficient light. He lit the tip of his wand to allow him to see the grave better. Her name lit up like a scar over the stone. "He is only fourteen. How they could allow this to happen…"

Snape's voice tried to remain solid, but the undertones shock with anger and fear. "I don't know why or how this is even happening. There is no possible way he put his own name into the Goblet. He is not smart enough to break the age line. And judging from the look on his face, it was clear he was just as surprised as the rest of us when his name was called. He is a horrid liar and I can safely say that his confusion and anger was genuine. As it is, I have to keep telling myself that this is somehow his doing as I cannot bare to think of the alternate option.

"People have died in this competition. Well trained and prepared students of age have died. What hope does a fourteen year old who cannot even brew a potion correctly have? Maybe that's why his name was added.

"I fear that the time may be upon us." Snape looked away from the grave. He searched the tree line for anything to keep his focus on. The trees were all leafless this year, the branches bare far too early in the year. The chirping of birds in the distance was somber, and Snape had to suppress the urge to strike out and silence their chatter.

"Albus has been mentioning it over the last few months." Snape kept his gaze locked onto the tree line, refusing to look down at the grave. "He believes the Dark Lord is to rise again. And I am inclined to believe him. I am not eager for that day to come, but with recent events, it is safe to say that he may be right."

Snape's eyes locked onto a grave he would much rather ignore during these trips. He sighed, reading the man's name and date and knowing that it was another death for his soul to bare. "Let's just hope the boy did acquire your luck, Potter. He will need it this year. He will need it for the next few years."

When Snape left a lily that night, he left a second on James' headstone and prayed that come next year, he wouldn't be putting a third on their son's grave as well.

_Of quiet birds in circled flight.  
>I am the soft stars that shine at night.<em>

(31 October 1995)

Snape came scowling that trip. His charcoal eyes stared into the soft stars before turning onto the cold headstones.

"You would be proud of him." Snape spoke slowly to James' grave. There was an irritated quality to Snape's voice, and annoyance was clear in his eyes. "I cannot agree with his approach to the situation, nor do I encourage the rule breaking that he is partaking in by doing so, but you would be proud of him none the less. He will need to be prepared for what he'll face and that toad of a teacher is only hindering his chances of survival, as well as that of the entire student body. I highly doubt that little student run group of his will be enough to prepare him for what he has still to face, but I can safely assume he is learning much more there than he is in this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts."

His eyes left James' grave and moved onto Lily's. "The Dark Lord is quickly growing in strength and followers. He is no longer biding his time but preparing to strike. I fear that war is only a short ways away and once it begins, I highly doubt it will end swiftly. The Dark Lord is heading straight for Potter. He believes that should he take out the boy, the rest of the world will fall to him as well. His arrogance is astounding. He believes it to be a simple task to take out the boy. He underestimates your son's endurance. I have watched him and his friends face obstacles that would make veteran soldiers cower in fear. There is not a situation that he does not run head long into. He fears nothing.

"I worry that that may be our greatest advantage and most devastating disadvantage in this war. The boy does not think before he acts. He rushes headlong into a fight and the moment one of his friends is in danger he forgoes any and all discretion when it comes to running to the rescue. He is liable to get himself killed in this manner."

Snape paused for a second, surprised with the volume his voice had reached. He refused to allow his concern and care for the boy to show, but it seemed that more and more during these trips that he was finding it hard to keep up the stone cold appearance. It was like the two graves in front of him were eating away at the façade he displayed onto the world and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Never the less," Snape whispered as he pulled out his wand and left behind the flower, "I will do my best to keep him alive as I always have."

_Do not stand at my grave and cry,_

(31 October 1996)

"There is only so much of this that I can take." Snape's words were muffled. He sat in front of the grave, the night sky on his back as he kept his face hidden in his hands. "Only so much I can handle. It seems to be my punishment to helplessly watch as those I care about are lost."

He looked up, eyes locked on the second date etched into the stone. "It's not Potter I worry about this year. The boy is fine. I made the promise to keep an eye on him, and I am keeping that promise.

"It's my Godson, Draco, I believe I've spoken of him once or twice before. Brilliant kid. Stubborn as all Hell. He and Potter are quite similar in that regard now that I think of it. Neither of them ever think anything through. Neither of them accept help when they obviously need it."

Snape was quiet for a moment. He fingered the grass beneath him, frowning at how limp it was. He missed crisp grass, and vibrant flowers, thunderstorms and undisturbed snow. Missed when things seemed so easy.

"I watch that boy grow." Snape began speaking again, his fingers leaving the blades of grass. "I was there for his first steps. His first words. Hell, I was around for Draco more when he was a kid than his own father was. I've watch that boy grow up, watched him become a young man, and now I'm forced to sit back while I watch him wither and die.

"He was never meant for this. He's just a boy. A boy who won't survive what he must do. He's got a heart on him, despite the fact that he refuses to acknowledge it most days. He's too good to be put into this war. To be put onto this side. He won't survive as a Death Eater. I know it. Albus knows it. The Dark Lord knows it. I'm pretty sure Draco knows it too."

A cold wind tore through the yard. Sighing, Severus leaned away from Lily's stone, finding his back pressing against another. His mind drifted momentarily to whomever the stone he supported himself with belong to. He wondered if they too were a casualty of all this. Had they too been taken from the world too young, or had they been given the luxury to slip out peacefully, after a life well spent? The more he thought on it, the moment he wondered which end was worst.

He considered sitting back up, but decided against it. The position was comfortable.

"I think I now understand what you once saw in me, Lily." Snape's voice quivered ever so slightly. "I see it in him. The potential he has. I've tried to keep him from making my same mistakes. I let my bitterness and hatred get the better of me. I allowed my own selfishness and doubt to destroy my only real friendship and I was too much of a coward to change. I don't want that for him. He deserves better.

"It's funny watching the way he looks at the Granger girl. It's probably not too far off to how I once looked at you. She's a good match for him. Draco needs someone like her. He needs someone who will keep him on his toes, keep him in line and out of trouble. Someone who isn't afraid to speak their mind and put him in his place when he needs to be. He needs someone who will challenge him. Someone who will help him grow. Help him heal. I doubt I will survive this war long enough to do that for him. He'll need someone whenever I'm gone."

With that he withdrew his wand, casting the spell as he rose to his feet. The lily finished forming on her grave as he dusted his black robes off. His finger caught in a hole that was beginning to form just above the left pocket. He'd have to mend that when he got the chance.

He put a hand on the grave, fingering the fresh lily. The cold October night was silent as he spoke; "I hope that whatever it is they may come to have, be it friendship or whatnot that it works out better for them than it did for us."

_I am not there; I did not die._

(31 October 1997)

"It's been a year." Snape spoke slowly. He leaned forward, using the curved headstone as a source of support. The graveyard was quite as usual, save for the birds that chirped about merrily in the morning light. "I know I'm breaking routine here. I'm actually out in the sun. Feels like it's been too long. I know I didn't come in June and I am sorry. I don't know if you were concerned by my absence or if you didn't even bother to notice. Things just went way too quickly at the end of the year.

"Its war at this moment. Your son scampered off near the end of the summer. I don't know what he is up to, but I assure you he'll be fine. He survived this long, I'll be truly disappointed if he dies now.

"I, on the other hand, will most likely be needing my own gravestone soon." Severus hissed as a sharp pain raced through his leg. The old injury was beginning the ache again, he'd have to make a salve for it when he got the chance. "Either by Death Eater or Order hands, I am certain that my end is coming soon. It's only a matter of time, and I must say, that I'm not unwelcomed to the idea. I've seen too much. Done too much.

"Albus always said I was too pessimistic about things." A small smile pulled at Snape's lips for a second. "He was right, as he always is. He…"

Something inside of Snape broke. Like a river being free from a dam, everything he had bottled inside of him came rushing forward. He chocked down what he imagined was the beginning of a sob. "I failed you, Lily."

His fingers brushed against the stone, the coldness harsh against his skin. "After all this time. All these years. I promised you I would protect him and I have done my best. But before this war is to end…" Snape's eyes lifted, his gaze falling upon the dozens of gravestones in the small yard.

"I fear I must apologize to you Lily." He chuckled darkly, just once, because what else was there to do in this situation. His single chuckled clutched at a tight howl in the base of his throat. "I am afraid I failed you. Failed Harry. I thought I was protecting him. Protecting the life you gave your own to save. These past few years I've done my best to keep him safe. I was never the kindest to the boy, that I will admit, but I kept him safe. I always kept him safe. And now…"

Snape's fingers curled into a tight fist. Pounding the side of it against the stone, he could only fight the scream building in the base of his throat. All these years of being in control, of being unreadable, unaffected, and one green eyed brat had broken through it all without even considering what he was doing. The potions master had shattered inside of his glass jar and with that had shattered his limits.

"I never thought I'd care about that boy." His voice was hallow, plagued with pain that Snape didn't even know he was capable of feeling for the boy. "He's irresponsible, arrogance, never thinks, always acts, and yet…" Snape stopped pounding his fists against the stone for a minute, his eyes glued on a pair of fluttering butterflies a few rows up, "yet I've watched that boy do amazing things. He's saved so many lives over the years – my own included. Inspired a student army. He has faced evil, true evil, and beaten it back time and time again. I've watched him grow, watched him mature. He reminds me of you." His eyes drifted to the second stone. "Of both you and Potter. And yet…

"Yet…" Snape didn't know how to say it. "Yet for this all to end, so must he. And there is nothing I, or anyone else can do. It's the way it has to be. Its bullshit is what it is. It's all bullshit."

He dug his fist into his pockets. His thumb absentmindedly played with a loss string inside of them. He'd have to fix that before it wore into a hole. He still needed to fix the first hole. "What use am I? I can't even protect a pair of teenage boys."

He didn't need to withdraw his wand to cast the spell. A single nod and the bouquet of lilies began to form on the headstone. He stood there longer than usual, just watching as the flowers formed. Severus sighed. How many flowers would he have to leave at this graveyard?

The butterflies seemed to sense the new floras and made their way over. They paid no mind to the man in black at they danced gracefully about the white lilies. They rested on the pedals, the blues of their wings vibrant against the dull and withering surroundings.

Turning from the site, and disturbing the butterflies which fluttered away at his movements, Snape bit back a tear as he muttered what he knew would be his final goodbye to the woman.


End file.
